“Why have they done this
to us?” Fatima lamented.
Sheila had no
answer. Her man had to join RSS if their
son was to get admission in the medical college. “Don’t talk to the Muslims anymore,” her
husband had told her the day he secured his son’s medical college admission.
They were friends from
childhood, Sheila and Fatima. They
studied in the same school and were later married to men in the same
neighbouring village. They were happy to
continue the friendship even when they had husbands to love and later children
of their own to love. Love is unlimited,
they realised. You can love anyone if
you want. Love doesn’t get
exhausted. Rather, it increases when
given liberally.
“Our son’s future is more
important than your friendship,” said Sheila’s husband. “Muslims are antinational. Keep away from them.”
Their son got admission
to the medical college run by Swami Radhadev on the condition that her husband
join the local RSS shakha. The shakha
decided who would be their friends and who the enemies.
As she walked away from
Fatima, having bid good bye to her, Sheila made a prayer in the nascent emptiness
of her heart. “Bhagwan, let not that day
come when my husband has to kill my friend for the sake of getting on in life.”
Why do I feel like this is a continuation of a story that you have written a year ago or so. Memories play hideous tricks!
ReplyDeleteThe same way as memories of riots incite a hideous violence in the minds of the mass, irrespective of religion and the reason of that riot. A cyclone is nearing its full strength, I feel.
The theme is recurrent in my writing. That's why you probably get that feeling.
DeleteBJP wants a cyclone. They think a repetition of Gujarat 2002 is going to create a Hindu rashtra.
Such a painful end to the beautiful friendship. Very well written, Sir.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Purba. Relationships are undergoing big changes in our country.
Delete